


London Nights

by ilsafausts (phoenix_cry)



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff, Spoilers, Spoilers for Mission Impossible Fallout, Tiny amount of angst, bisexual Ilsa, just because i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_cry/pseuds/ilsafausts
Summary: Two secret agents come across each other in a bar in London.That's it, that's the plot.Enjoy some fluff and flirting.(This is set several months after the events of Fallout)





	London Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got to see Fallout last night, and oooh boy, was it great! And it gave me a lot of Ilsa and Ethan feels, so I just had to try and get some of them out of my system. 
> 
> For the Ilsa x Ethan shippers amongst you. I know you're out there ;)

Setting the empty whiskey glass down on the bar in front of her and slowly swallowing her last sip, Ilsa resisted the urge to rub her tired eyes. At least the light in the high-end cocktail bar, she had been spending the last half hour in, was dim enough to not further aggravate her eyes. She could appreciate that.

Soft jazz music was playing over the speakers and Ilsa found her right foot tapping along with the beat.

To her left, the lights and sounds of London at night filtered in through the huge windows, and for a short moment, she got lost in the sights. The bar was located on the top level of a high rise building, which afforded its visitors a stunning view of the city at any time of the day.

She could see the London Eye doing its rounds in the distance and continued to watch it for a while, the view almost hypnotic.

The bartender taking her empty glass had her reverting her attention away from the view outside and back to the mirror above the bar, from where she had an excellent view of the room at her back.

She could feel several pairs of eyes on her, but none of them made the fine hairs at the back of her neck stand on end, so she knew it was just some more or less harmless ogling. She was used to that. Ilsa knew she looked good, especially in the dark blue suit she was currently wearing. The added tie had the benefit of turning the head of several ladies, as well, which she surely didn’t mind. Usually, she had no preference about whether she was ending her night with a man or a woman, if the mood so suited her, but men tended to look at her more lecherously. Women were more appreciative instead.

A minute later, the bartender - the name tag told her his name was Alex - placed another whiskey down in front of her, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass.

Raising a brow at the young man, she guessed he was in his mid-twenties, she said, “I didn’t order this.”

He smiled and returned her raised eyebrow, motioning over her shoulder and slightly to her right, with a jerk of his chin. “No, but he did. I was wondering when one of your admirers would find the courage to buy you a drink.”

Ilsa ignored his last comment and instead turned around slightly to look over her right shoulder. She smothered an involuntary smile when her eyes settled on a familiar figure hovering in the shadows at a small table for two, at the back of the bar, raising his own whiskey glass at her in greeting.

“Know him?” Alex asked.

Ilsa hummed. “Let’s say, we may have crossed paths before.”

Alex snorted, barely suppressing an amused laugh. “His eyes tell me he sure wouldn’t mind crossing more than just paths with you.”

Ilsa had no such qualms and laughed out loud, smoothly sliding off her chair at the same time. “Thank you for your witty contribution to my night, Alex.”

“Anytime! If you ever find yourself in need of more wit, and a good glass of whiskey, you know where to find me!” He answered cheerily.

Leaving a nice tip for him and grabbing her fresh drink, she saluted him with it, before turning to stride towards the back of the bar.

He must have slipped into the room while the views outside had occupied her mind, Ilsa noted and admonished herself for her inattention. That wouldn’t happen again, she promised herself.

Sliding into the seat across from him a few seconds later, she quipped, “So, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

He smirked at her, never once taking his eyes off her. “Apparently, running into a girl like you, enjoying a drink or three.”

“Hmm, well I’m glad you’re here, then. Whiskey always tastes better in good company.”

“Here, here.” He joked, lifting his glass to clink against hers.

Swallowing his sip of amber liquid, he admitted, “I never mind running into you.”

“Really? Even when I try to shoot you?”

“You usually end up saving my life instead, so no.”

“Hm, well, you’re right about that. Why is that, I wonder?”

“Maybe you have a soft spot for aging fellow agents.”

“Or maybe you’re just too prone to finding yourself in trouble.”

“Oh, definitely that.”

They both laughed, and for the first time in months, ever since she had left Ethan Hunt recovering from his wounds, which were the result of a helicopter crash and a deadly fight with another agent gone rogue, she felt herself relaxing.

“How have you been, Ethan?” she asked, leaning back in her seat, blue eyes fixed on his.

“You know how it is. Recuperating for a few days, then trying to find and work in a new Secretary. Accepting missions, saving the world. Same old, same old.”

Even though he tried to sound cheerful, Ilsa knew Secretary Hunley’s death had hit him hard. She also knew that this wasn’t the first Secretary Ethan had had to watch die, and yet it never got any easier. The moment it did, she knew he wouldn’t be doing this job anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, eyes speaking what her lips didn’t.

His own lips quirked in a sad smile for a second and he nodded in acknowledgment before his cheerful mask was back in place. Ilsa loathed that he had to put it on in the first place, but she knew that, as long as they were in public, he wouldn’t allow another slip-up.

“So, what have you been up to the past several months, Miss Faust?”

“Oh, you know how it is. Recuperating, attending internal hearings at headquarters, accepting missions, saving the world. Same old, same old,” she quipped.

He remained unfaced at having his words thrown back at him, but instead zeroed in on the underlying message.

“You still didn’t get out, then.”

Ilsa shrugged, almost nonchalantly. “I guess they just loath to lose an agent like me.”

“I thought that after Lane, you could negotiate an out. I’m sorry that didn’t work out for you.”

“Yes, so did I.” Giving herself a mental shake, she put on another smile, trying to reassure him. “It’s fine, Ethan. I think I might actually miss all this too much anyway. I’m not made for a quiet lifestyle, with a white picket fence and 1.5 kids.”

“Neither am I, which is too bad, actually.”

She nodded, thinking he was talking about his ex-wife. “I’m sorry about Julia.”

“We’ve both moved on, we finally got closure." His eyes were suddenly interested in the condensed ring of water his glass had left on the table. "So, no. I wasn’t talking about Julia.”

Ilsa swallowed and wet her lips at his not-so-subtle implication. “I see.”

Eyes fixed on her once more, he cocked his head slightly to the left, “Please, don’t tell me that comes as a surprise to you.”

She smirked. “Don’t worry, Ethan. You’re good at hiding your feelings, but not that good.”

He laughed quietly. “I should probably be worried about that, what with our line of work. For once, however, I’m actually glad about that. ”

“So am I,” she agreed softly.

“Yeah?”

Ilsa was momentarily surprised at how unsure he sounded, not used to him ever showing anything less than pure confidence, no matter the situation they found themselves in.

“Did you really have any doubt?”

“I must admit I was trying hard not to get my hopes up.”

She smirked and sassed, “Well, I hope you don’t have any trouble getting anything else up.”

He almost choked on the sip of whiskey he was in the process of swallowing.

Ilsa laughed. “I think it’s time we got out of here, don’t you agree?”

“Wholeheartedly,” he agreed, wheezing slightly from the burning liquid in this throat.

Ilsa found it strangely endearing how his eyes watered, making them an even more intense green in the process.

Downing the last bit of her own whiskey in one gulp, she placed the glass back on the table and got up. Patting down the crease in her left pant leg, the result of crossing her legs for too long, she then held out a hand for him to take.

He got to his feet, as well, slipping his own hand into hers and squeezing gently. “Where to, then?”

Ilsa smiled knowingly. “My hotel’s across the street.”

“I like how you think.”

“I know you do.”

On their way out, she could see Alex grinning at her and giving her the thumbs up from behind the bar.

Before the door closed behind them, she blew him a playful kiss over her shoulder. His laughter filtered out through the crack in the door before it clicked shut.

Ilsa decided that, whenever she found herself in London, she’d try to stop by and give him another big tip.

He had been involved in improving her night by a hundred percent, after all.


End file.
